Jealousy
by DreamerChick
Summary: PostRENT, Mark is lonely, and he knows it is partially, mostly his own fault. Unrequited MarkRoger.


Jealousy

Disclaimer- I don't own 'em. I just wanna borrow occasionally and play with them. I am grateful to the late Jonathan Larson for creating them.

oh and mucho mucho thanks to my friend Lyss who a: gave me the title b: edited this a bit for me. (Spelling and grammar escape me sometimes)

_Facing your loneliness... _It's one of the things that Roger said I hide from in my work And he was right. I, Mark Cohen, am lonely. Very lonely. And I know it's my own fault. Because, truly speaking, I will never allow myself to love anyone the way I love HIM. Him being, of course, Roger Davis. My best friend. Practically my brother. Okay, that thought settles it once and for all. He can **NEVER** know. **EVER!**

The thing that I'll never understand... Why _why_ do I constantly push him toward anybody but me. I pushed him to go after Mimi. I watched them go off that night after Maureen's protest, when we were all having dinner at The Life Cafe. I think that was actually when I first fully understood that I was in love with him. In the same instant, I knew I could never have him.

Being the person I am, I reminded him that Mimi still loved him when he was on his way to Santa Fe that night. The night he called me out for essentially being a coward and hiding in my work.

I even held him on the nights after Mimi died. It was Dec 27th, 1990, three days after returning to us. I held him as he cried out for Mimi. I woke him up from one or two nightmares, holding him until he fell asleep again. I had one or two thoughts of "maybe now...maybe" but those were quickly pushed aside. This wasn't the time or place. I held him just to be physically with him, in any capacity. Hey, beggars can't be choosers right? I soothed his tears, listened to him ramble hours upon hours about her. It's what friends do, right?

It's been two, almost three years since 'the feline of Avenue B' left us. Left him. Though it took quite some time, he finally found a new girl. A young waitress at the Life. She's a nice enough girl. A woman, really. She's about a year older than Roger. I do not like her. She's a little needy, a little clingy, a little passive aggressive, and sometimes a bit possessive of him. I don't mention this because I'm aware that some of my opinion and evaluation of her is based in jealousy. Plain and simple. They've been dating for a few months, and my opinion has yet to change.

I'm drawn out of my thoughts by the loft door sliding open. Roger and Kristina- erm, excuse me, Kris- are standing just in it, apparently in an argument. And the next thing out of Kris' mouth makes me wanna puke. "I'm so sorry. Of course, you're right. You need someone smarter, better than me." she whimpers. _Pathetic_ is the only word I can think about this. But the nausea I have at that statement is quickly washed away by the sinking ache I feel watching Roger lean down and kiss her, smoothing her dark hair out of the way. "No baby. You're fine. I want no better than you because there is no girl alive better than you."

I don't know what it is about that particular moment but I can't stand to be in that room any more. I flee to my bedroom and turn on the second hand radio I bought for a quarter at a thrift store. It gets incredibly shotty reception on most days, and it doesn't disappoint now. I scan through, trying to find a channel that doesn't have a commercial or an unbearable amount of static. I settle on a classical music station, flop on the already way too lumpy mattress, and lay there, just looking at the ceiling, thinking. I don't know what triggers it, but suddenly all the emotions I've kept bottled up start to make themselves known. I'm crying, and I'm not just talking little sniffles, a few tears running down my cheeks, no, I'm bawling. Trying to be silent, because I don't want Roger to know, but that becomes impossible. I hear a soft knock.

"Mark? You okay?"

I want to say yes, get him to go away. At the same time though, I want to say no, let him in, tell him what I'm feeling. Instead I say nothing.

"Mark?" His voice is anxious this time. He carefully opens the door. "What's the matter?"

I just shake my head. I won't **-CAN'T-** tell him. He comes over beside me, sits me up and holds me in his strong and so comforting arms, lettting me cry into the softness of his sweatshirt. I cry for a few minutes more, until slowly the sobs turn to whimpers, and then sniffles, and I can pull away. I look up at Roger. It hurts to see his green eyes so confused, and a little hurt that I won't tell him what caused this. But he can't know.

"What was that all about?" He tries.

Two options here. I can tell all, face the awkwardness and put more strain on Roger's already stressed mind, or I can hold it in, and we can go on as usual. Roger has enough on his mind- dealing with a new relationship, still hurting for Mimi, and not a small thing, the ever present unknown that comes with having AIDS. He doesn't need this in his head. I choose my words carefully.

"I don't know. I'm just feeling lonely I guess."

"Aww. Don't worry, man. You'll find somebody, I promise, if I have to drag her in here myself."

I laugh a little. Roger would do that too. "Yeah" I whisper, nodding to reassure him.

"Hey, Kris went home. What'dya say to going to the Life. It can't be more than 15 bucks, but it's on me."

"Yeah, let me wash up real quick." I say, hating to stand up, get out of his arms. I head to the bathroom, Roger's words still echoing in my head. _Don't worry man, you'll find somebody..._

That's precisely why I'm lonely. I don't want just _somebody_. I've already found that perfect somebody. Too bad he can **NEVER** know.

FIN


End file.
